


Don't You Forget About Me

by call_it_a_miracle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mary Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Memory Alteration, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Suicidal Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_it_a_miracle/pseuds/call_it_a_miracle
Summary: Castiel could feel the denial ready to happily settle in his mind. If he ignores it, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe he’ll be able to complete the mission and die with no human emotions getting in the way. Maybe… maybe that’s what’s best for Dean. He’s been trying to understand what being human is. He’d thought embracing his emotions for himself but keeping them from others was the best thing he could do, but what Dean is doing in denying it all together... Who’s best to know what to do with emotions than someone who’s lived with them their whole life? So when Dean asks:“Delete my memory”Castiel obliges.Or: the one where miscommunication is the real villain and Cas and Dean just can't get their hands off eachother.





	1. Fool Me Once

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my desktop for months and i finally decided to finish it.

Castiel is extremely old. 

As an angel he’s bared witness to all of his Father’s creation. He was a soldier, a seraph created with the sole purpose of protecting everything He had told them to love and treasure. Nature, humans, Earth, it was his duty to see it all become what his Father wanted it to be. He spent the first years of his existence in Heaven following orders. He witnessed victory, peace and overall light, declaring it all genuine and rewarding because that was all Castiel knew. God’s name was always uttered softly by his lips, thanking him over and over for everything he had done for them, swearing to care and protect it with everything he had. Toxic, blinding devotion clouding his mind for eons.

Then he witnessed destruction. War, as he soon learned, was nothing but devastation and death for all parts involved. As a born warrior it was his instinct to fight, to put his side over the others without questioning his orders. The first time he used his blade, he felt completely and utterly lost. Everything he’d learned about light and peace was suddenly questioned, losing its ideal meaning. But then his superiors intervened and suddenly the questions were gone and he became a tool, ready to be used and disposed. Suddenly war wasn’t so hard to take part in and he became one of Heaven’s greatest warriors. 

His blind devotion remained intact, justifying his actions with Heaven’s will. If his Father is giving the orders, who is he to question them? 

But, if it really was his Father giving the orders, why couldn’t he hear them from Him?

Millenia went by, fleeting between blind devotion and rebellious outbursts that almost cost him his sanity. He was going through his longest run as a heavenly soldier when he was tasked with the most important mission of his life. He raised The Righteous Man from perdition. 

Saving Dean Winchester was both the best and darnest thing he’s ever done, selfishly and blindingly so. He had been blinded by mission, purpose, and as soon as the blindfold was off he perished. He allowed himself to feel and be felt, let others in and expose himself in order to finally find out who and what he truly is. No more obedience, no more submission, just freedom to see, taste, feel. 

Dean was just the catalyst to his long foreseen descend. Or at least that’s what he told himself before the realization hit him on that damning day, when he was intimate with Dean for the first time. 

It was a thursday afternoon. Dean and Castiel were out on a hunt, leaving Sam to stay back and do more research on the Mark of Cain. The angel had insisted they stayed, help Sam look through the bunker’s library for the third time and then find an excuse to leave Dean while they dealt with Rowena. But the human had looked so distressed and eager to do _something_ other than sit around and read, the angel gave in. Mostly to allow Dean to blow up some pent up tension from the Mark in a relatively safe way, as well as keeping an eye on the unstable man. 

Selfishly, the angel was grateful for the chance to have the human all for himself, being as both of them had been busy with dealing with their own pseudo-apocalypses to have the free time. They worked the case, thinking it was just a simple salt and burn with a few hints of enochian writing on walls. 

When they reached the abandoned hospital where police had found the mutilated bodies of three people who, according to Cas, had been briefly used as angelic vessels, they immediately felt something was wrong. Soon enough, they were trapped in a room full of demons. Castiel had been trapped in a ring of holy fire while Dean sat chained to a metal chair. 

“Well well well look what the cat dragged in” one of the demons, their leader, said. She circled Dean, dragging a knife softly over his exposed skin as to not cut him just yet. “Dean Winchester. You know, this trap was only for the angel, simple enough for his stupid ass to fall, but you? I’d expect more from someone worthy of the Mark” 

The demon ripped through the fabric of Dean’s jacket and plaid shirt effortlessly, exposing the Mark. She dragged the knife around it, laughing as Dean growled at her. 

“What do you want?” the hunter said, making threateningly eye contact with his captor. 

“From you? I don’t know, but i’ll think of something don’t you worry” she pressed the knife to the Mark and licked her lips as a bead of blood leaked out from the wound. She then pulled the knife away and the blood ran down the man’s forearm as the wound healed itself. “Maybe we can put those amazing regenerative skills to test, hmm?” 

She turned to the other demons who snickered and nodded in agreement before turning back to Dean. 

“But first, we need something from your precious little pet” 

With that she walked towards Castiel, who stood in the middle of the fire ring looking ready to unleash a storm. They dared to threaten Dean, they’d deal with the angel’s wrath. 

“Did Crowley send you to kill me?” the angel growled out, his voice so deep Dean almost didn’t hear him over the crackling of the fire. 

“Oh, no no no darling” the demon cooed mockingly. “Crowley has no idea we’re doing this. He’d kill us!” she smirked, turning to one of the demons. 

The second demon stepped forward holding an open book. He started uttering words in latin, and immediately the angel’s eye went wide for a split second before going back to his stoic expression. The demon kept talking as the others just stayed silent, smirking at Castiel. 

“Castiel” the demon screamed, looking up from the book and pointing at the angel. “Loquens iustitiam adnuntians recta”

Screams drowned the room as all the demons left their vessels, leaving their true forms to float around the room before diving straight towards the angel. Castiel was knocked off his feet, groaning at the impact. The flames in the fire ring grew wide for a split second, and Dean flinched as he saw them reach the ceiling before they went back to being just a few inches above the ground. 

“Cas!” Dean stared wide eyed at the angel, fighting against his restraints. He felt around desperately, searching for the lock that held the chains together so that the hunter could pick his way out but to no avail, the lock must be very well hidden from his reach. “Cas?!”

Castiel sat there, completely dumbfounded. A few seconds went by and he was finally able to process what had just happened, swallowing his panic and nodding at the hunter reassuringly.

“Now, Castiel” the female demon continued, being the only demon physically left in the room apart from the spell caster. “I’m sure you already know what Rick here did but big boy over there must be dying to know so why don’t you tell him?”

Castiel tried with all the strength he could muster to keep his mouth shut but the spell was too strong and he was left speaking against his will. “They have put a spell on me that forces me to answer all their questions. No matter how much i resist it i will speak the truth and only the truth” 

Dean frowned, shooting daggers off his eyes at the demons. “And what exactly do you want to know so desperately?!” 

“Oh Dean. You should keep that little mouth shut if you don’t want me to use my pretty knifes on your pretty face” 

“Go ahead, i don’t give a shit” Dean kept eye contact with her, his whole body shaking with rage making the chains rattle. 

The demon stared at him for a few seconds before sighing. “You’re right. The Mark won’t make physical punishment fun” she pouted before turning back to the angel. “I guess we’ll just have to see what Castiel here thinks of you, huh?”

Both demons stepped towards the angel, flanking his sides. 

“You know” the other demon, Rick, said. “There’s a lot of rumors going around Hell regarding your splendid fall. Tell me, are you and Crowley, you know, fucking?”

Castiel’s face scrunched up in disgust. “No”

“You sure? ‘cuz he has no problem in gloating about rolling in the sack with you two” Rick snickered, pointing back and forth between Dean and Cas.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the chair, causing the female demon to snort loudly.

“So part of it is true then! Crowley got himself a piece of Dean cake! I can’t believe it, that’s just wonderful”

“Shut up” Castiel growled, standing as close to the demon as he could without hurting himself with the fire. 

“Ah, gotta love a jealous one” Rick smiled mockingly at the angel. 

“Now, there’s something i just need to know” the female demon smiled widely at Dean, then at Castiel. “Are you in love with him?” 

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when he felt the wrong word forming in his mind. He immediately pressed his lips together tightly, fighting against the spell. His nails digged in the meaty flesh of his palms as every single muscle in his body tensed up with the strain.

“I asked you a question” the demon growled at him. “Are. You. In. Love. With. Him?” 

Castiel’s whole body shook from the strain. If he were human, beads of sweat would be pouring out of his forehead down his face from it. He bit his tongue, blood dripping from the side of his mouth as he glared at the demon. 

He’d pushed the shock of the newly found answer as deep as it could go, instead focusing on fighting the spell. The angel couldn’t allow himself to say it, specially in Dean’s presence, without thinking about it first. But as strong as he considered himself to physically be, he couldn’t fight for long. 

Dean sat back, his search for the lock completely forgotten as he saw how hard the angel fought against the spell. The human sat completely still, the air in the room suddenly too tense and for a second he forgot how to breathe.

“Y-yes” it was barely a whisper but the doomed word still left the angel’s lips.

“Sorry i couldn’t hear you” the demon taunted, a self satisfied smirk on her face. 

“Yes! Yes, i-i am in lo- in love with D-Dean Winchester” the words punched the way out of Castiel’s chest, leaving him dry heaving on his knees. 

The demons laughed. “I can’t believe Donovan owes me his next soul collection” Rick said between gasping breaths.

“Since when, you pathetic ass?” the female demon asked.

The angel’s eyes widened as a dam opened in his mind. Suddenly, clarity took over him and every single interaction he’d had with the hunter since finding his soul in Hell played over his head in seconds. “S-since forever” the angel whispered in awe, still not daring to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Of course, the angel has to be a fucking sap” Rick said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a glass full of holy oil and spilt it on the angel’s arm. “We should wash away some of the warm and fuzzy, don’t you think, Riley?” 

“Sure, why not” she took out a lighter from her jacket pocket, producing a bright orange flame. 

“No! Don’t you dare” Dean growled, once again struggling against the chains. 

“Aww isn’t this so sweet?!” Riley cooed. 

“Just hurry up. I can feel myself getting type two diabetes” Rick growled. 

“You’re no fun” Riley rolled her eyes before turning back to the angel and dropping the lighter. 

A loud screech filled the room, making Dean flinch and shake as another wave of rage filled him. He looked at the Mark, which was now glowing angry red. He breathed heavily pulling against the chains one last time before they finally started to give in. 

The angel kept screaming, quickly taking his trenchcoat off. The fire hadn’t reached much of his flesh, thankfully, and soon he was able to put it off. His hand and part of his wrist were completely destroyed, burned flesh and muscle barely hanging to his bones. He could hear Dean struggling and the angel was about to turn a threatening glare at the demons when there was a change in the room. 

“What the hell is going on here?!” Crowley growled out, looking around the room. 

“Oh fuck” Rick and Riley said at the same time, quickly leaving their vessels. 

“Excuse me, i asked you two a question” Crowley said, before snapping his fingers. Black smoke filled the room as both demons exploded, leaving Crowley to wave his hand in front of his face, frowning at the terrible smell of burnt demon. 

“Squirrel, feathers” Crowley said as he approached Castiel, stomping off the fire. “My most sincere apologies. I leave those two on their own for a few days and they conspire against me”

The angel quickly rose to his feet, glaring at Crowley. 

“Ah yes, the spell” Crowley snapped his fingers again and Castiel felt the leash wrapped around his mind break, freeing him. “You’re welcome. Now if you excuse me, i’ve got some punishment to deliver” 

Before either of them could say a word the demon was gone. 

There was an awkward silence between Dean and Cas. The angel’s words still hanging heavy over them. 

Dean’s thoughts screamed in his head but somehow he managed to drown them down, instead focusing on the moment.

“Cas?” His voice came out rough. He mentally cursed himself before continuing. “Can you get me out of these” 

“Of course. My apologies” Castiel hesitantly reached for the chains wrapped around the hunter’s chest, flinching slightly as his injured hand touched the fabric of the man’s undershirt. 

“We should take a look at that later” Dean said. Castiel nodded, pulling on the chains with his good hand until they finally gave in. 

“Thanks” Dean said, standing up from the chair. “Lets, uh, go back to the motel now” 

The ride back was incredibly awkward. Dean opted to stare straight ahead, hiding the weird tension behind loud music. Meanwhile the angel sat as far apart from Dean as he could, practically pressed against the car door. 

Castiel just sat there, staring out the window and holding his burnt hand close to his chest. The shock of the revelation still coursing through him, leaving him unable to do anything but _think_. He closed his eyes and he saw everything. He saw Dean stabbing him in that barn, he saw himself watching Dean kiss Ana, a pang of what he now identifies as jealousy stunning him. He saw light-hearted conversations in Bobby’s house, heard prayers directed to him all the way to Purgatory. He saw himself with Hannah, he felt Metatron’s last speech, how his true intentions were revealed. He saw everything as if someone had finally allowed him to look behind the curtain. He became aware of his feelings. 

“How’s your hand?” the hunter found himself asking. 

“It’ll heal” Castiel said, his voice soft. “Holy oil burns take longer but… it’ll heal” 

“I have some pills and ointments to help with the pain if you’d like” the hunter said, risking a glance at the angel. 

Castiel looked down. “I’ll be fine. Thank you”

By the time they arrived back at the motel the sky was pitch black, no sign of life other than the blinking lights and giggles coming from other rooms. Dean reached for the keys in his pocket, eyeing them before opening the door. 

“I’m gonna shower then hit the sack” the hunter said, feeling exhaustion creeping over him. “You sure you don’t want help with that hand? Looks pretty bad, dude” 

“I’m sure. You go shower and get some rest” 

Dean shot the angel one last worried look before quickly grabbing some clothes from his duffel back and locking himself in the bathroom. 

The hunter didn’t allow himself to think much in the car, choosing to focus on the way the purr of the Impala blended with his music. 

But now, surrounded by heat, it was inevitable. He thought back to all the times he’d looked at the angel, when his eyes would subtibly shift to peek at his soft lips before turning back to blue. He thought about the times he’d called him family, how he’d been itching to wrap his arms around the angel when he didn’t seem to believe him. He thought of all the unspoken words left unsaid thanks to his own fear, John Winchester’s voice echoing somewhere in his mind. He thought and thought until the water was too cold on his aching muscles and he stepped out, dressing himself in his pajamas before taking a deep breath and opening the door. 

As soon as he caught sight of Castiel sat on one of the beds holding his injured arm, something gave in in him. 

“Ok, you’re not fine” he said, reaching once again for his duffel bag. He pulled some bandages and whatnot out, shoving them in front of the angel. “C’mon. We need to clean that up first” 

The angel didn’t protest as the human dragged him to the bathroom. He hissed as the cold water hit the burn, raw flesh still hanging from the sides. Dean gulped, trying to keep himself from puking as he opened the bottle of peroxide and poured some on the burn. Castiel flinched and the lights over them flickered. 

“I know, man, but we can’t let it get infected or something” 

“Human illness won’t affect me”Castiel growled out, still fighting against the sharp pain. 

“Then it’ll help with the pain, i don’t know man just let me work” 

They made their way back to the bed, Castiel trying to dry his hand with a towel as much as he could while Dean wrestled with bandage plastic wrappers. 

A few minutes later the angel’s hand sat on his lap, the bandage applying just enough pressure to be slightly uncomfortable. 

“There. We should, umm, sleep and stuff” 

The awkward tension was back. Castiel knew they had to talk about what had just happened or they never would. He took a deep breath and turned to Dean, who still sat next to him placing all the supplies left in their respective containers. 

“Dean, about what i said-” 

“It’s fine Cas. Those demons put some weird ass mojo on you, that’s all” Dean said, reaching for his bag and stuffing the first aid kit back inside. 

“Exactly. Dean, i was telling the truth” the words came out on a rush, loud enough for Dean to hear. 

The hunter froze, his eyes fixed on the front door. His legs twitched with the need to run away, leave the room and hit a bar somewhere. But his earlier thoughts were like an anchor, keeping him in place. Slowly, oh so slowly, he turned to the angel. Castiel’s blue eyes pleaded at Dean’s to say something, anything. 

“Cas…” 

“I am aware that you may not feel the same way, specially because of my male vessel, and i completely understand if you don-”

The angel was interrupted with lips pressing against his with urgency. He could feel the pulses of energy coming from the mark, the usual warmth that Dean’s soul produced was tainted with it’s ice cold darkness. 

Castiel stood there, unable to move. Dean kept insisting though, his hands slowly wrapping around the angel, reaching up to pull on his hair. Electricity filled the room and Cas’ grace started to reach out to the hunter. And suddenly the angel was gone. 

In that moment they were gods, both creating and destroying themselves with their actions and the words left unsaid. Doubt and fear engaged with longing and nothing ever mattered more than getting their clothes off each other. 

Their lips were always moving, alway working. Either pressing against each other or muttering the other’s name softly as well as sweet words that meant nothing yet everything to the angel and the hunter as they moved as one. The intense love between them silencing the Mark enough for Dean to fall asleep. 

It was the best sleep he’d had since he got the Mark.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean regrets sleeping with Cas and asks him to delete the memory from his mind.

That was only the second time the angel had ever engaged in sexual activities, but at the time he could already tell that nothing would ever compare to this. Having Dean all around him, feeling everything he was willing to give him, it was the best blessing he’d ever receive. 

Yes, there isn’t much to work with since he was deceived his first time. He was so desperate to feel needed, warm and safe, he jumped at the sight of a pretty, kind girl. Things started moving forward and the angel thought, why not? He’d watched pornography before and he’d learned a couple things watching Dean court women in bars. So when April kissed him, he went along with it thinking he was giving his virginity to a compassionate sweet girl that took care of him. The ex- angel at the time felt devastated when he found out April was just a reaper whose sole intention was to kill him. The first time he’d felt comfortable as a human only to be attacked like that. 

And now that he allowed himself to think about it, he should’ve seen it coming. Humans are highly untrusting creatures. What kind of woman would see a homeless person and offer them their home, much less have sex with them? Not to mention that she’d only seen him once before in her life. Castiel should’ve known better. 

At the time he knew he deserved nothing less, since he caused every single angel such profound pain. Being human taught him how difficult living can be, how easy it is to make the wrong choices and how hard it is to move on with the guilt and pain they bring with them. On the ride back to the bunker after Sam and Dean saved him he accepted that this happened, forcing himself to believe that things would get better now that he was with the Winchesters. He spent the whole drive thinking of ways to redeem himself, starting with getting the angels back to Heaven.

Of course that didn’t turn out as planned seeing as Dean kicked him out only a couple hours later for no apparent reason other than Castiel just had to get _out_. At that moment he found out that getting deceived by a complete stranger hurt a thousand times less than being rejected by someone you’re close to. Every single human emotion was too much for Castiel at the time, but after being forced to survive on his own he’d learned to mask them. So when Dean turned apologetic eyes at him as they reached the stairs’ landing, he forced a reassuring smile and stepped out, keeping himself from looking back even when he could feel Dean’s eyes burning into his back.

He shakes himself at this, putting those dark times back. It was all in the past, now. This moment here, this is what he needs to work on now. 

He turned his head back to stare at Dean. The motel’s vacancy red and blue sign’s LEDs reflected on his skin. The freckles that littered his body stood out, and Castiel was brought back to the memory of kissing patterns all over them, creating beautiful constellations. A wide smile took over his face. For the first time in his entire existence, he could confidently say that he was happy. Laying there, what else could he ever ask for?

He dared himself to look away from the light, turning to a dark corner in the room. There, in the darkest side of his mind a few rough voices screamed at him. They reminded him of his sins, how he wasn’t _worthy_ of the Righteous Man. They yelled and snarled and threatened him with such an intensity he could physically place each one of them in the room. The darkness moved around the room in the form of shadows, swallowing the light around him and Castiel held Dean even tighter. 

The hunter murmured and shifted in his sleep at the sudden change and the angel used some of his borrowed grace to keep him asleep, pleading Dean to get as much rest as he could. He knew he should save his energy in order to keep his body from burning out, but he couldn’t help it. He’d gladly give up his life if it meant the hunter was safe and satisfied. 

Castiel risked one last look at the dark, gasping as a multitude of faces stared back at him. All battered and bloodied, every single being that had died because of him growled, screaming his unworthiness with such spite the angel recoiled in horror, almost dragging Dean with him. 

He turned back to the light and waited for his heart to calm down. He stared at the hunter’s face, counting every single freckle that littered his skin. 

Night time didn’t last much longer after that. By the time Dean shifted in his arms for the second time the bedside clock displayed an angry red 10:13am. The hunter had been asleep for 7 hours. 

“Good morning, Dean” 

“Cas?” the hunter’s raspy voice said as he blinked rapidly getting his eyes used to the light. “What…?” 

Dean frowned, looking down at their tangled naked bodies and back up at the angel. The memories from the previous night slowly came to him and his eyes widened. 

“Did we really…?” he whispered, searching the angel’s eyes. 

“Yes” Castiel confirmed, staring right back. “We did” 

The hunter looked stunned, his eyes glued to the wall behind Castiel. His grip on the angel weakened as he slowly parted their bodies. A thousand things screamed in his head and the angel watched worriedly as Dean got lost in his head. 

“Dean?” the angel asked, trying to make eye contact with him. 

Dean’s eyes remained glued to the wall for a few seconds before finally looking at the angel. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. There were so many emotions displaying in the human’s eyes, and even if he couldn’t name most of them, he was able to recognize the raw fear in them. 

“Dean?” he pleaded, releasing one of his arms from around the human and instead placed his hand on the side of his face. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was breathless, a tremble hiding under it. “That was real. The hunt, those demons, the spell thing...” 

Castiel frowned. “Yes”

“And- and you told the truth” 

“I did” 

“And then i…” 

Dean closed his eyes before pushing himself away from the angel completely. 

“I shouldn’t have done that” the hunter said, turning his back to Castiel. “ _We_ shouldn't have done that. I’m sorry” 

Castiel’s world came crashing down. Of course this would happen, how could he be so stupid?! 

Of course Dean doesn’t want him. Who would want a flawed, broken angel? He’s done nothing but destroy the world over and over again since they met. The moment he fell, his fate was sealed. He’s killed and sinned so many times. And now he doesn’t even have his grace. He selfishly killed another angel and in his raw desperation he succumbed to cannibalism. What kind of disgusting, emotionless monster does that?!

He’s well aware of the fact that he’s slowly dying. He hopes he’ll have enough time to help Dean get rid of the Mark. But after that? 

A selfish mantra kept playing in his head. _Once Dean is cured, everything will be alright_. But what does that even mean? Is he accepting his death? Or is he just waiting for some miracle to erase the Mark and hand him back his grace on a silver platter?

He doesn’t want to think about this because, deep down, he already knows the answer. 

Castiel has always been so selfish, he doesn’t even deserve the angel title. He allowed himself to lose control and follow Dean to bed. He allowed himself to enjoy being with his human, to fall in love with him. He allowed himself to curse them both and now he must pay the consequences.

“No, i’m sorry” Castiel said, sitting up on the bed. He couldn’t make himself look anywhere but at a specific spot on the floor. “I should’ve stopped-” 

“Don’t” Dean growled out, pushing the covers off himself. The hunter reached down, rummaged through the clothes littering the floor until he found his boxers. He swiftly pulled them over his legs, letting the elastic slap against his skin. “Just. Shut the fuck up” 

There was a long silence as Dean forced open his duffel bag, searching for clean clothes to wear. Castiel could hear his own heartbeat drumming desperately, painfully in his chest. Shame and regret crawled over him as he fought the sudden urge to flee the room. No, running away never solves anything, and if he wants to save Dean he has to stop being such a big coward. If Dean tells him to leave, which he most likely will now, Castiel will accept it and settle for helping Sam at a distance. 

Once Dean was dressed he sat on the battered loveseat on the other side of the room. His elbows digged into his knees as he ran his hands through his messy hair. 

“Cas” Dean murmured, the palms of his hands pressed painfully against his face. “We can’t do this” 

“I know” The angel said as he closed his eyes, willing the borrowed grace to manifest his clothes back on his body. 

“Let me talk, man” Dean pleaded, still hiding his face in his hands. He sighed. “What happened, it wasn’t real. You were under some fucked up spell and the- the Mark keeps making me do all kinds of fucked up shit”

There was a pause. Castiel could feel the denial ready to happily settle in his mind. If he ignores it, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe he’ll be able to complete the mission and die with no human emotions getting in the way. Maybe… maybe that’s what’s best for Dean. He’s been trying to understand what being human is. He’d thought embracing his emotions for himself but keeping them from others was the best thing he could do, but what Dean’s doing in denying it all together... Who’s best to know what to do with emotions than someone who’s lived with them their whole life? So when Dean asks:

“Delete my memory”

Castiel obliges. He’s never liked messing with people’s heads, in fact his whole life he’s been avoiding doing it unless it’s an essential part of the mission. He looks as Dean finally raises his head and feels the threat of the newly familiar burn behind his eyes. He closes them, trying to gather himself. 

_Please, Cas._ The angel hears Dean pray and that settles it. 

He opens his eyes again, almost weeping at the sight of Dean, hunched up on the other side of the bed, full of shame and regret.

“Get rid of it” 

And so Castiel swallows everything down and stands up from his place in the bed, sitting next to the human in the loveseat, internally cursing the irony of their situation. He holds his breath as he presses two fingers to Dean’s forehead, letting his stolen grace flow through the hunter’s body and settling in his brain. 

Dean passed out. 

He woke up for the third time ten minutes later laying on the bed. He stretched and groaned, taking over the entire bed. Castiel sat across from him in the loveseat pretending to read some lore book he found in the Impala. 

“Mornin’ Cas” Dean’s deep voice shoot daggers in the angel’s chest. The hunter looked at the bedside clock and gasped. “It’s almost noon, what the Hell?! Why’d you let me sleep so late?! We should’ve been interviewing the witnesses by now”

Castiel didn’t bother looking up from the book, knowing he wasn’t ready to face the hunter just yet. “You’ve been getting barely any sleep. I went back to the hospital last night, the spirit of Doctor Schwartz was haunting the building so i salted and burned his remains. The building is safe now”

Dean looked at him, frowning. “What the fuck dude, i thought we’d agreed you’d let me beat some Casper ass”

“You need to rest more” Castiel’s eyes remained glued to the book, his nails digging into the leather covers.

“Bullshit. Un-fucking-believable” the hunter growled as he stood from the bed and headed to the bathroom, cursing the angel under his breath. 

Dean took his time going through his morning routine, fighting every single voice that told him to go out there and beat the shit out of the angel. He splashed his face with ice cold water and took deep breaths until the voices descended to mild whispers. He sighed and made his way back to the room where the angel still sat in the smelly loveseat reading some bullshit on fairies and water spirits or some shit. 

“Now you better buy me some good lunch to make up for this” Dean growled out, gathering all his belongings and throwing them in his duffel bag. He lightly kicked the angel’s leg to get his attention as he made his way to the door. 

“Let’s go” 

The angel sighed, closing the book and standing up. He took one last look at the room before brushing past the hunter. Dean closed the door, throwing the keys to the Impala and his duffel bag at Castiel as he left to do their check out. The angel opened the Impala’s trunk and carefully settled Dean’s bag there before closing it and settling in the passenger seat. 

The car ride back was silent, aggressive energy emanating from Dean as he held the steering wheel tightly with shaky hands. 

It hurts, the pain agonizingly deep. _Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! @call-it-a-miracle


	3. Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas isn't sure he belongs, but then Dean asks him to stay.

The second time it happens is a couple years later. Castiel is aimlessly roaming the bunker, anything not to get too lost in his own thoughts while everyone else is asleep. The angel has been able to push through without being reminded of that night more often than not and he would really appreciate it if his mind could keep away the images of Dean lying next to him in that crappy motel bed. Instead he occupies himself with checking each and every warding, making mental notes on which ones need to be redone, and exploring each and every crevice of the bunker, even if he already knows the place like the palm of his hand. 

That’s how he finds a newly resurrected Mary Winchester leaning over one of the tables in the library reading something. The only source of lighting being the squared lamp she must’ve dragged towards herself making her blonde hair glow in the dark. Upon closer inspection he realizes she’s lost in John Winchester’s journal. One of the boys must’ve given it to her as a way to catch up easily while avoiding any awkward conversations that may follow. 

Castiel knows the contents of that journal. He’s read it a couple times while watching over the boys at night over the years. And judging by the fact that it’s past midnight and the boys have been asleep for quite a while now, the ex-marine’s words are affecting Mary greatly. Having been resurrected a couple times himself, he has an idea of what she must be going through. Though, he’s never been gone for more than a year, let alone thirty three. 

He walks closer to her and the sound of his footsteps startles her. She turns to him and exhales loudly, attempting a smile that comes out as a grimace.

“Castiel” she says. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m always up” he explains, standing by the table she sat on but still keeping a distance from her as Dean taught him years ago ( _Personal space, man_ ). “Angels don’t need sleep”

“Wish i had that problem” Mary says, sounding wistful. It really is a problem indeed, too much conscious time by himself. Mary closes the journal, making sure to remember which page she left on. She’s not sure she could ever forget, but still. She starts to stand up, tugging the battered journal with her. “Anyway i think i’ll go try again. Wish me luck” 

“Luck” Castiel’s gravely voice says. The odd answer reminds her of how this weird creature that against all odds formed a bond with her boys is also an outsider in his own way. She starts walking away but stops.

Her curiosity is too much, and she can’t help but ask: “Castiel” The angel turns to her with kind eyes, which prop her to keep talking openly. “When you left heaven… when did it start to feel like… like you fit… like you… belong here?” 

The angel’s eyes darkened, his lips trembling as he forced a tight lipped smile. “Well i’m still not sure i do” 

Mary nods, feeling her own hope slip away slowly while feeling bad for the angel. She starts walking away again when Castel calls out to her.

“Mary” now she turns to him, meeting those kind blue eyes. “You do belong here” 

His voice is so reassuring she almost believes him. 

~~~

Castiel tries not to act surprised when he receives the news of Mary’s leaving. He had been sitting in a bar, absentmindedly sipping beer while waiting for Crowley to show up when his phone rang. As soon as he saw Sam’s name on the screen he knew something was wrong. As much as it pains him, Dean is the one that always calls him unless he’s otherwise indisposed. Worry creeps over him as he answers, beer laying forgotten on the counter as he walks outside into the chilly night away from the constant clinking of glasses and humm of loud drunken voices. 

“Hello, Sam. Is everything alright?” he asks, finding his truck and leaning against it to appear as casual and non-suspicious as possible. 

“Cas, hey man. We ummm… how’s the search for Lucifer going?” Sam’s voice is shaky, and the way he avoids the angel’s question intensifies the feeling in his gut. 

“I’m waiting for Crowley to come back from a meeting with his informants. Sam, what happened?” Castiel speaks quickly, alarm tinting his voice in a way that hopefully will get Sam to talk. 

“Nothing to worry about, Cas. We’re fine here. It’s just…” the younger Winchester clears his throat “Mom left” 

The angel closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the car window. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sam” 

“Yeah… she said she needed space. And i completely understand that, i mean she’s been gone for thirty three years! But Dean… he’s not taking it very well”

Castiel frowned, opening his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks mom’s not coming back. That she’s choosing to abandon us or something. I don’t know what’s going on in his head right now but he took a bottle of Jack to his room and well…” Sam sighed. Castiel could almost hear him running his fingers through his long hair. “When are you coming back, Cas?”

Castiel doesn’t answer right away. He stands there, the cold seeping through his human bones as he keeps his grace from rejecting all mundane feelings from manifesting. The white puffs of breath coming out of his mouth tinted with the red neon signs that cover the front of the bar. The sound of cars passing by on the highway soothing him. 

“Cas?”

The angel shifts awkwardly then, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “I don’t know. Depends on what Crowley has gathered regarding Lucifer’s whereabouts. Unless you need me there?” 

“Oh” Sam says, the sound of rusting fabric filling the silence. “Well i would appreciate some help with handling Dean. Maybe seeing you back home would help” 

Castiel’s mind is torn. He could pause the mission for a few days, make sure Dean is ok before leaving again. But this is Lucifer, the one responsible for the boys’ pain in the first place. If he can toss him back to the cage, then the boys would be able to relax and reconnect with their mother. Besides, who knows what Lucifer might be up to? What if he does greater damage while Castiel is not focusing on the mission?

But, what exactly is his mission? He’d bowed to help the boys whenever they needed him, specially Dean. Was that only valid during emergencies? And isn’t this an emergency, in a sense? Dean is home, drowning himself in alcohol. Castiel can feel his longing pulling at him, begging him for help. 

That settles it then. “I’ll head out once my meeting with Crowley is over” he tells Sam, nodding to himself. 

“Thanks Cas. Have fun with Crowley” A slight snort echoed through the walls of the bunker loud enough for Castiel to hear. 

The angel can’t help the soft, fond smile that takes over his otherwise stoic face. “You are an ass, Sam Winchester” 

“Love you too buddy. Take care, Cas”

“You too, Sam” And with that he hangs up. He stares down at the phone, still holding the smile in his face when footsteps approach him. 

“Sorry, am i interrupting your thirteen year old girl fangirl moment over squirrel?” Crowley says, standing a couple feet away from the angel. 

The smile quickly disappears. He sighs, stuffing the phone in his pocket before turning to the demon. “Any news on Lucifer?” he asks. 

Crowley sighed dramatically before leaning against the truck next to Castiel. “Yes, i’ve got some of my demons following him around” 

The angel leaned away from him, only for the demon to scoot closer to him. Castiel closes his eyes tightly, praying for himself before leaning away from the car, making his way back to the bar. 

“Tell me you’ve got something useful” Castiel pleads, entering the bar. He doesn’t bother on holding the door open for Crowley, who huffs out a “hey!” before opening the door for himself and following Castiel to the stools in the corner. 

“Well?” Castiel asks after ordering himself another beer, putting his wallet back in his coat pocket next to his phone. 

“They’re keeping records of his vessels, but so far none of them have been strong enough to hold him for more than a couple minutes” Crowley explains, sipping on a fruity beverage. 

Castiel sighs. “We have to stop him. He’s killing innocent people” 

“He’s too fast for us. And i don’t think those people are all that innocent. They’re letting Lucifer play with their bodies for one, and not in the sexy way. Though i can’t tell what’s worse” the demon takes another sip from his drink before continuing “Besides, we still have to get dear mother to do the spell. And i’m guessing Moose and Squirrel are one phone call away” 

“No” Castiel answers immediately, taking a swig of his beer. “We’re not getting them involved in this. They have enough to deal with as it is” 

Crowley raised his eyebrows, staring at the angel’s profile. “I’m guessing things aren’t going well with mommy Winchester?” 

“That’s none of your business” Castiel says, downing the rest of his beer before standing up. “If that’s all, i have something to get back to” He doesn’t wait for Crowley to answer before he’s shuffling out of the bar. 

“Give Squirrel a kiss for me, would ya” the demon calls out behind him, chuckling. 

It takes all the strength Castiel has left in him not to smite the demon right then and there. 

~~~

Six hours later he’s pulling up to the bunker’s garage, parking his truck next to the Impala. He walks in silently, expecting the boys to be asleep in the early morning hours. He walks through the maze of hallways to their bedrooms, finding Sam’s door wide open. He peaks inside, finding the younger brother fast asleep, laying on his stomach. The bed covers are all over the place, and the angel can’t resist shuffling inside and draping them over Sam’s body. The hunter is completely gone, snoring loudly. 

Castiel leaves the room, a soft smile on his face. He eyes Dean’s closed door on the other end of the hallway and freezes. He can make out the soft hum of music, which indicated that the hunter must be awake. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that Dean needed him, before finally approaching the door and knocking softly. 

He gets no answer. Castiel knocks again, louder. This time the music stops, the sound of heavy footsteps replacing it before the door opens revealing Dean. 

He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a black, cotton t-shirt. His eyes are heavy, tired and his hair is a disheveled mess on top of his head. His pale skin and the bags under his eyes making his freckles and green eyes pop out. He looked sick, but as the angel examined his body he couldn’t find anything other than exhaustion. In fact, he couldn’t find evidence of any intake of alcohol in the past 48 hours. He gave the man another onceover, finding an alarming amount of emotions manifesting in his head. The angel didn’t dare to look further than that, respecting Dean’s need of privacy. 

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice deep and raspy from disuse. 

“Hello Dean” 

The hunter looked at the angel skeptically before stepping back, silently inviting Castiel in and closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here, man? I thought you were out looking for Lucifer?”

Castiel sat on the sofa at the back of the room as he often did whenever Dean invited him in. He looked up at the hunter as he sat on the edge of his bed facing him. 

“Sam called. He, uh, he told me about Mary” the angel said, deciding to be straightforward with him. 

Dean sighed, ghosting a hand over his face and briefly tugging on his hair before his hands fell limply on his lap. “Yeah, well. She doesn’t want to be here so…”

“Dean, you know that’s not true” 

The hunter huffs, a bitter grimace taking over his face. 

“She just needs time to figure out the situation on her own. It’s been thirty three years, Dean. I may not have full understanding of time in the human perspective but even i can tell it’s not-” 

“We were helping her!” Dean interrupted, finally meeting the angel’s eyes. “We were letting her spend time alone in her room, Sam gave her dad’s journal, she was doing great here!” 

“No, Dean. She wasn’t and you know it” that came out harsher than the angel had expected. He regretted it immediately as he saw Dean shut down in front of him, rage taking over his emotions. 

“And how would you know, huh?!” Dean stood up, pacing across the room anxiously. “Did she tell you or something?!”

“We did talk” Castiel said, deciding that he needed to be honest in order to get through Dean. “She asked me when it started to feel like i ‘fit in’ after i left heaven”

Dean stopped, freezed in the middle of his room. One hand pulling on his dirty blonde locks and the other closed in a tight fist by his side. 

“And what did you say?” he asked in a rough whisper, bracing himself for the answer. 

“I…” Castiel couldn’t say it. For some reason it felt wrong, even when he knew it was the truth. He just couldn’t face Dean when admitting it out loud. 

“You what?!” Dean said, his voice louder and loaded with pure rage. 

“I told her i’m still not sure i do” the words tumbled out of his mouth making him wince. Dean’s fist tightened by his side and the angel could smell the beads of blood peeking out from where his fingernails digged into his palm roughly. The hunter’s breath spiked up a little, and his eyes were closed tight. 

They stood there for a couple seconds, neither of them daring to break the tension that had taken over the room. The usual hum of machinery running through the bunker being the only sound, as well as Dean’s breathing and sped up heartbeat. Castiel worried his bottom lip with his top teeth, a nervous habit he’d learned from his time as a human. His hands remained clasped on his lap and even when he felt something dig into his left buttcheek he didn’t dare move in the uncomfortable little sofa. 

Finally, Dean sighed. He opened his eyes and kept them fixed on the floor as he spoke. 

“Is it because of me?” his voice was barely a whisper and the angel almost didn’t catch it. “Am i doing something wrong?” 

“No, Dean. It’s not your fault” Castiel responded, making his voice as soft as possible.

“Then why?” The hunter finally met his eyes. They were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying for a long time. “Why did mom leave? Why do you keep leaving? Why does everyone always leave me?!” 

“Dean, i-”

The hunter huffed out in desperation, leaping towards the angel. He grabbed a fistful of the tan overcoat, hauling the angel to his feet. 

“ANSWER ME YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS LEAVE?!” Dean yelled, shaking the angel in his arms. Their faces were only inches apart, and Castiel could make out every single speck of green in the man’s eyes, every single freckle covering his nose and forehead, every single pore of his beautiful skin. 

The angel gulped, another pesky habit from his time as human, before he finally found his voice again. 

“I don’t leave because i want to, Dean” he says. Dean can feel his breath brushing against his lips and his hold on the angel’s coat gets tighter. “I leave because i have a mission and… and i don’t want to put you or Sam in danger” 

The words leave Dean breathless. A lump forms in his throat and threatens to take over him. He’s shaking and sweating and he’s never needed that bottle of Jack more in his life. But he’d promised himself he’d try to get better now that life and, well, Chuck and Amara had given him a second chance. He hadn’t been drinking as much, trading casual beers for sodas and, as much as he hated it, water. It was hard, making him regret all that time he’d spent making fun of Sam for doing the same thing. 

So he just concentrates in the intoxicating feel of Castiel close to him. It was electric, sharp waves of _something_ coursing through his veins as he inhaled the clean ozone scent that trailed after the angel wherever he went. He pictures the blue blue _blue_ of his eyes as he tells himself not to look. A dark voice at the back of his head tells him he only has to shift his eyes a bit, step closer to the angel and get everything he’s ever wanted. 

But Dean can’t. He can’t do this to his family, not now when they’re struggling to keep close to one another. He can’t give everything to Cas because he’s scared he won’t be able to give something else to the rest of his family. He can’t set unfair priorities, he doesn’t get to after almost breaking the world so many times. He doesn’t deserve to be happy. And most of all he knows Castiel deserves more than a beat up high school dropout. He knows it yet his brain keeps yelling at him that the angel doesn’t care. 

How could the angel set his own forced standards when he hasn’t been on Earth long enough to comply to society’s demands and expectations?

Castiel watches as Dean’s eyes get lost somewhere in the wall behind him. The grip on his coat lets loose and the man’s breathing becomes harsher. 

“Dean?” 

The sound of the angel’s voice snaps him out, and it only takes a second of green melting with blue for him to push that final inch and connect their lips.


	4. Lock It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is completely and utterly clueless of what's been happening between his brother and the angel.

It’s different than the first time. The electric feel of their skin rubbing together was as good as he remembered. The yellow light of the bedside lamp lit the otherwise dark room, making Dean’s skin look like a beautiful golden sculpture. His freckles stood out like rocks in the ocean and Castiel made sure to give them the same treatment as he did before. 

But something was different. The physical urgency of their first time gone, replaced by the song of Dean’s prayers echoing in his head. His grace reached back, singing a chorus of Hallelujahs as their physical bodies became a distant concept within the angel. To Castiel, it was just his grace and Dean’s soul molding into one beautiful _something_. 

Dean’s pleads and cries had the angel pleading and crying back. Together they composed a symphony of everything they couldn’t say out loud and it was a different kind of perfect that could only make sense to them right then and there. 

And then it was over. Dean collapsed on top of the angel, breathing heavily. Castiel carefully moved him so he could lie comfortably by his side. They ended up facing each other, their hands clasped between them. 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice is so deep someone might think he’d spent the last two hours chewing rocks in the ocean. 

“Heya Cas” Dean’s voice is slurred, the previous exhaustion taking over him. 

“I…” the angel hesitates, searching Dean’s eyes. 

“I know. T’was great” the hunter says, a soft sated smile on his face. 

“No, Dean. I mean, yes. It was more than great but… Dean, do you regret this?” Castiel needs to ask. He _needs_ to know before he sets his hopes too high. 

But Dean can only hum as his eyes close on their own accord, the hunter’s burnt out body gladly welcoming unconsciousness. 

Once again Castiel finds himself lying in the dark, the only light seeming to come from Dean’s body as the bedside lamp kept burning like hot fire over his skin. The angel turns to the lamp and with a flick of his wrist turns it off so that the hunter could truly rest. The only source of light in the otherwise pitch black room were the yellow streaks sneaking from the hallway around the door like a halo. 

He can hear the loud voices protest as he squeezes Dean’s limp hand between them. They scream at him the same mantra of things they’ve been screaming since he first realized his true feelings for the man. The dark corners of the room scowl at him, threatening to take over everything. 

And once again he shuts them up by focusing solely on Dean, who had shifted in his sleep and now laid half on top of the angel, their legs intertwined as Dean’s whole left arm and half of his chest laid on top of him. The angel wasn’t complaining though, moving the hand that wasn’t trapped between their bodies up to Dean’s head, stroking the dirty blonde locks gingerly. He counted the freckles in the man’s back, making constellations in his mind. 

After a while he dares to think of what he’d said to Dean. 

It’s the truth. He doesn’t want to leave. He never does. If he had a choice he would stay with the boys at the bunker forever, but only if it meant they would all be truly safe. And only if he somehow found a way to redeem himself to them.

He’s aware that that’ll never be possible. Castiel always finds a way to mess up and bring a whole new disaster to the Winchesters over and over again. His main mission has been to protect them, to keep them from danger yet he never seems to success. So, as much as it pains him, he’ll keep leaving. And if somehow, someway, the boys (specially Dean) don’t want to be left waiting for him, so be it. He’ll leave and he’ll stay away. He’ll keep protecting them from a distance because he loves them so much. Maybe he loves them too much, but they’ve earned that love and by now only death can stop him from doing anything for them.

Specially now, he doesn’t want to get the boys involved with Lucifer again. No, Castiel was the one to free the archangel from the cage and he’ll be the one to toss him back in. The boys have been through enough for, hell, the past handful of years. They don’t need to take up on this responsibility. Besides, Castiel is supposed to be an angel, a seraph, a warrior. He can take care of this. 

The distant sound of footsteps startles him. He looks around and remembers where he is. Sam must be getting ready for his morning jog which means it’s around 6am. The underground state of the bunker makes time unpredictable, which is why Sam insisted on having at least one clock per room. Dean’s clock sat on top of the bed out of the angel’s sight. 

Castiel sighed and turned to Dean. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, the angel almost forgot about his troubles. What is he going to tell Dean when he wakes up? And what is Dean going to ask of him? 

He knows the answer to his problems. He could easily erase Dean’s memories from the previous night. Get up and leave. Tell Sam Dean was too drunk to talk, hence his fuzzy memory. He could avoid the pain of seeing Dean struggle with what to do. He could just run away as he always seems to do. 

But he knows he can’t just do that to Dean. He has to let the hunter choose for himself. If he wants to forget again, Castiel will delete the memory. But if he wants to remember, if he wants to keep this thing between them alive or if he wants to know just what **not** to do, the angel will comply too. Dean has made it clear how much he needs his privacy, how much it bothers him to know that he often prays to Castiel accidentally and that the angel knows things he wouldn’t even dream of telling him. 

He’ll wait until Dean wakes up and he’ll keep his heart locked up deep inside him. He won’t pressure in any way for Dean to make a choice, just as he did the first time. He’ll gladly do whatever Dean needs without hesitation. But most importantly, he’ll keep pushing the pain down, only letting himself feel it when he finds himself alone. After all, he deserves nothing less. 

Hours tick by and before Castiel knew it Dean was stirring in his place on the angel’s chest. The hunter yawned and stretched, an easy smile placed on his lips at the feeling of a warm body pressed against his naked one. His fingers traced lazy circles on whatever patch of skin they were reaching, not bothering to open his eyes just yet. He inhaled the fresh, ozone scent with hints of musk and sighed. 

_Wait, musk?_

His eyes flew open, and he was met with the sight of a flat, tan chest. His cheek pressed gently on a row of ribs, and his hand still kept drawing feathery nonsense on a flat, smooth stomach. Ever so slowly the memories came back to him, just in time for the angel to speak. 

“Good morning, Dean” his voice was deep yet quiet, afraid of breaking the delicate atmosphere of the room. Dean’s cheek vibrated with the words, reminding him that he was still pretty snuggled up to his best friend. 

Dean pulled away violently as if he’d been burned by the words. He looked up and sure enough he was met with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, as well as a cautious smile on the angel’s soft, pink lips. 

It took him a couple seconds of just blinking, his eyes never leaving Cas’, before he found his voice again. “Mornin’ Cas” his voice was equally deep and quiet. Dean swallowed and winced, finding his throat extremely dry. 

Castiel, being as thoughtful as he is, quickly reached over to the bedside table where a half empty glass sat, turning the lamp on while he’s at it. As he moved, the covers slid up revealing inch after inch of perfectly tan skin. Dean swallowed again, watching as the covers stopped just under the angel’s belly button, revealing the perfect hip bones Dean had spent so long worshipping a few hours ago. His eyes remained glued to that spot where the covers bulged up, blushing as he remembered the treat that hid under. 

The angel cleared his throat awkwardly as he noticed the human’s stare, handing him the glass as he tried to keep his own flush from taking over his face. 

“Did-did you sleep well?” Castiel asked, looking away as the hunter gulped water like a lost man in a desert. 

“Yeah, you?” Dean responded breathily right before mentally slapping himself. Ugh, _why is he like this?_

“I don’t sleep” the angel answered, his blush growing darker. 

“Right…” 

There was an awkward silence. The only sounds in the room came from the ticking clock on the wall and the hum of the bedside lamp. Dean clenched the sheets in a fist, letting his eyes roam through the wrinkles. Castiel stared at the wall in front of him where their shadows stared right back at him. He could see every movement of Dean’s fist across the white sheets, how his shoulders moved with every breath he took, the way his hair stood all over the place. 

The ticking clock seemed to get louder, mocking them as they tried to disappear from the room by the power of their thoughts alone. The pounding of their hearts didn’t help, and the pressure grew and grew until they couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“Cas, i don’t know why-”

“Dean, i’m so sorry i-” 

They spoke at the same time. With a loud, frustrated sigh, Castiel spoke before Dean could. 

“Please, Dean. You should speak first” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Nah, man. You first. I- I insist”

Castiel sighed again, closing his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re going through a lot emotionally and i shouldn’t have acted the way i did”

“Yeah… this whole thing’s got me messed up” Dean says, grateful for being able to use this excuse. 

“And” Castiel continued, opening his eyes and staring at the wall behind Dean. “I understand if you’d like me to erase the memory from your mind” 

Dean looked up at him, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. He hadn’t really considered this as a possibility. He’d been too busy finding a way to balance all his problems out he never really thought of getting rid of one. The hunter scanned the angel’s face. To any other person Castiel had a very neutral frown on his face, but Dean could see the specks of pain and worry behind his eyes. The way his forehead creased and his lips hung low at the corners. 

“Why are you saying this to me?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the angel’s face. 

Castiel sighed, letting his resolve crumble as he looks down at the sheets in front of him. 

“Because, as i said, i know you are dealing with a lot at the moment. I don’t want to add to your distress” 

Dean’s frown deepens. He’s aware of just how fucked up the situation is, and as much as he wants to he knows he can’t fight for this. With Lucifer out there, his mother gone and the British Men Of Letters lurking in the background there’s no time for Dean to be selfish and focus on this _thing_ between them. He doesn’t have the right to. Besides, he’s already cursed the angel enough during their time together. Cas has lost everything over and over again, all because of him. He can’t let it get worse. 

And of course, how can the angel even bare to touch him? He’s just a human. A deeply flawed, cursed, sinner human. He can’t drag the angel down like this. Castiel surely doesn’t feel that strongly towards him, otherwise he wouldn’t be suggesting to pretend as if anything ever happened between them. 

So Dean nods, looking anywhere but at the angel. “Then go for it. Get rid of last night” 

Castiel raises his hand and with a soft brush of his fingertips against his temple, everything goes black. 

The angel rises from the bed and gets dressed. With a deep intake of air he shuffles Dean softly until he’s lying comfortably in the bed. He does a onceover of the room, getting rid of any evidence that could trigger the memories back into existence before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

He silently leaves the room and makes his way towards his own. Or at least the one he used whenever he found himself staying at the bunker for more than a few days. He locks the door behind him and slides down the nearest wall, pulling his knees towards his chest. 

He doesn’t even try to fight the tears that stream down his face, letting the sobs violently wreck him. 

~~~

Sam’s been up for a few hours. He went for his usual morning jog and found Castiel’s truck parked outside, which meant the angel arrived sometime last night. He goes through his usual morning routine, eating an apple before jumping into the shower, waiting for Dean to make them both breakfast as usual. He gets out and finds both Dean and Cas’ doors closed which means they both must be resting still. He considers knocking on Dean’s door but stops himself, knowing that Dean’s not in a good place at the moment and he would most likely try to stab him if he dares wake him up from a drunkenly induced sleep. So he turns to Cas. 

He knocks a couple times to warn the angel before reaching for the knob, but frowns as he finds it locked. As a rule they never lock their doors, especially at night, opting for the good ol’ sock whenever they were in need of true privacy. 

But they _never_ lock their doors. 

“Cas?” He calls out, loud enough for it to be heard through the thick wooden door. 

There’s some shuffling from behind the door before the lock finally clicks. Sam turns it, and pushes the door open just in time to see the angel sit on the edge of his unused bed. 

“Hey man” Sam says, stepping into the room. He notices the way Cas’ hands twitch in his lap, his eyes lost somewhere on the carpeted floor. “You ok?” 

The angel clears his throat, turning to Sam but avoiding eye contact. “Yes, i arrived a few hours ago” 

“Any news from Crowley?” Sam sits on the other end of the bed, keeping a few feet between them. 

“Nothing of import. He’s got a few demons following Lucifer as he keeps taking on vessels but none of them have been strong enough to contain him for more than a few minutes” 

Sam nods, ghosting a hand over his face onto his hair. “Right” 

There’s a small silence, during which Castiel keeps fidgeting in place. Ever since he’s been spending more time at the bunker with them, the angel had developed a few human mannerisms, including nervous ticks such as clasping his hands and rubbing his thumbs together unconsciously. Sam frowned at this, his lips pressed in a thin line. 

“Cas, are you sure you’re ok?” Sam asks him again, searching for the angel’s eyes. 

Castiel tightens his hands in fists, finally making eye contact with Sam. There’s something in his eyes, but the hunter can’t quite pinpoint what that is. He doesn’t understand the angel as much as his brother does. 

“Yes, Sam. I’m fine. Just… tired” Cas says, looking down where his fists landed on his lap. He realizes how that looks and uncurls his hands, placing them neatly along his thighs. 

“Yeah, ok” Sam says, standing up. “Well i’ll leave you to rest. Just, please talk to Dean whenever you can, ok?” 

Castiel nods, and stares at the door as Sam slowly walks away, closing the door behind him.


	5. Bar Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Cas talk.

A few weeks later they manage to trap Lucifer.

It wasn’t easy. Castiel discovered Crowley’s plan of returning the archangel to his old vessel and to the demon’s disappointment he destroyed it, dispersing every particle all over the universe so that the demon wouldn’t have time to rebuild it while they go after him. Then, they managed to convince Kelly Kline to play bait for Lucifer. And once they got him trapped in the fancy hotel room, Sam used the Egg thing they borrowed from Ketch to eject him from Rooney’s body and trap him in the device. Rowena then tossed him back to the cage and just like that, the biggest threat was gone. 

But now Sam and Dean were being held God knows where and Castiel almost lost Kelly. They stumble into the bunker as the angel pulls out his phone. 

“Make yourself comfortable, just be careful with the weapons and such. I’ll just make a quick phone call” 

Kelly nods, peaking curiously at the machines surrounding the war room. 

Castiel stands in the landing, looking down at her as the phone beeps in his ear. 

“Hello?” Mary’s voice finally answers. 

“Mary” Castiel says, alarm clouding the word. 

“Castiel? What is it?” 

“I need you to meet me at the bunker as soon as possible” 

With that he hangs up. The angel makes his way down the stairs to the map table where Kelly sits, a hand rubbing protectively at her flat stomach. 

“You can’t kill me, or my baby” she says as Castiel takes a seat opposite her. 

“I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous” the angel says, looking down at his hands. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we can’t let the nephil be born” 

“Just because the devil is somehow his father or whatever doesn’t mean the baby has to be evil” 

Castiel sighed. “We don’t know that and i can’t take that risk” 

A few hours later Mary bursts in. “Castiel?” She calls out, running down the stairs. 

“Mary” Castiel says, walking out of the library. 

“What happened? Where’s Sam and Dean?” 

Cas shuffles awkwardly, frowning at Mary. Then, an unknown woman walks behind the angel. 

“And who is she?” Mary asks, her eyes never leaving Kelly. 

Castiel then tells her the story of how they trapped Lucifer and how Kelly is involved in the mess. 

“So you left them?!” Mary says, shock written all over her face. 

“Dean told me to go” Castiel tries to explain. 

“Stop making excuses!” Mary sighs, looking down at the table in front of her. “If they needed help why didn’t they call me?” 

“Because you were out” Castiel looks up at her apologetically, his lips curved downward. 

Mary sighs again, louder. “How did we let this happen, Castiel?” 

The angel presses his lips tightly together, biting the insides of his cheeks as he feels the telltale burn behind his eyes. _How **could** he let this happen?_ The boys were under _his_ care, he was supposed to protect them. He was supposed to be the one getting hurt and captured, not them. 

“I’m sorry” the angel says quietly, taking out his phone. “I will find them” 

The next week is a disaster for the angel. He tries activating the GPS on their phones but that leads him nowhere. He calls Crowley for help but the demon only agrees to meet him so that he can mock the angel, still salty about having his revenge masterplan uncovered. Rowena, of course, is plain out ignoring his calls and the angels don’t even bother. He’s completely alone in this. 

He locks Kelly in the bunker, leaving enough supplies to last her for a few months. He warns her about what rooms not to enter and trusts her enough not to do anything too stupid while he’s gone. He aimlessly tries following Dean’s longing but it only brings him to Lancaster, Missouri where a vampire is targeting young women. He decides to follow in on the case with no new leads on the brothers and a new phone call from Kelly letting him know that she’s ok. He fixes his suit and pulls out the new FBI badge Dean made him a few months ago and starts interviewing witnesses. 

Three days pass and he gets nowhere near the vampire’s nest. Two more women are killed before he tosses the badge somewhere in his truck and hightails it out of there. 

Then Mary calls and asks him to meet in a bar in Omaha. He drives all morning and sits at the bar for a couple hours before Mary shows up. They order drinks and talk. Mary tells him about her lack of intel on the boys, and he answers her with his run in with the vampire. Mary listens, nursing her drink as the angel vents his frustrations. She tries to comfort him, telling him to work the case together but he refuses. They sit in silence after that.

Two drinks later Mary gets the courage to ask something that’s been on her mind. 

“So, you raised Dean from Hell, right?”

“Yes” Castiel says, his eyes glued to the beer label before him. He notices it’s Dean’s favourite. 

“And you have a some sort of bond with him?” 

Castiel sighed, his hand freezing next to the bottle where he’d been tracing the drops of condensation seeping through the glass. 

“Yes” 

“How does that work?” she asks, turning to him. “I mean, you clearly have a different relationship with him than with Sam. You do care for both, but… i don’t know. I guess I don’t know either of you well enough to pinpoint it”

Castiel’s breath hitches as his hand closes into a fist. Mary watches him patiently, studying the angel’s face as he thinks of an answer. 

“Dean and i do share a more profound bond” the words from all those years ago make their way out of his mouth smoothly. “I do care for both of them, they’re my brothers. But Dean is different” 

He clears his throat, feeling some very human awkwardness as he reaches for the beer bottle, gulping half of it. 

“So you’re in love with him” 

Castiel chokes on the beer, coughing wildly. Mary reaches over to pat him gently on the back, a shit eating grin on her face. 

“What?” Castiel croaks out. 

“You love Dean. And he clearly loves you back. But you two aren’t together, are you?” 

Castiel stares at the bottle in silent horror. How could this woman tell? Has he really been so careless?!

“Castiel” Mary says for the third time, forcing the angel to look at her. “It’s ok. You can tell me”

The angel takes a deep breath before answering. “No, we are not together” his voice is so quiet it almost gets lost with the background bar rumble. 

Mary frowns. “Why?” 

And suddenly Dean’s longing sparks up in his chest. That, along with weeks of pent up frustration cause the backs of the angel’s eyes to burn, tears building up in the corners. He swallows, holding his hands in fists and willing himself to calm down. 

“Cas? Hey, are you ok?” Mary asks, worry lacing her words. “I’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to answer” 

And the angel feels grateful relief at her words. Still, it isn’t enough, and before he knows it he’s spilling his guts at Mary. 

He tells her everything. From him realizing his feeling for the hunter to them sleeping together twice. His eyes follow Mary as she flinches at the mention of Dean’s distress over her leaving, but otherwise she remains silent and just _listening_. And so the angel talks and talks and only stops himself when his voice gets too rough and a rogue tear runs down his face. He wipes it angrily before drinking the rest of his beer, signaling the bartender to give him another one. 

“Cas…I’m so sorry for bringing this up” 

Castiel takes the new beer bottle from the bartender and gulps a third of it. “It doesn’t matter” 

“Yes, it does! You can’t keep messing with Dean’s head like that, not even when he asks you to” Mary takes the beer bottle from the angel, getting his attention. “You two have to sort this out like adults” 

“No” the angel says, reaching for his bottle only for Mary to take it away again. He sighed, shuffling in his stool. “There’s no need for that. I’ve bowed to stay away from him” 

“We both know that won’t work” 

Castiel’s scowl turns into a soft grimace. “Well, it’s not like it matters now that he’s locked away somewhere because of me” 

“I just told you, it wasn’t your fault” Mary said, taking a sip from her own beer. “I understand you were just following their plan” 

“Still, i could’ve done something” 

“And what? Let Kelly escape with Lucifer’s child?” 

The angel sighed, defeated. Mary slid his beer bottle across the table and the angel gulped the another third of it. 

“Don’t worry” Mary said, making eye contact with him. “We will find them. And you two will sort this mess out”


	6. Of Worth and Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas use their words.

Castiel’s body sags in relief as he sees Dean walking towards him over the various forest vegetation. His ears ring with the pounding of his heart as the hunter pulls him into his arms. He immediately reciprocates, pressing his chin on his shoulder and just feeling the hunter’s beating heart against his. The seconds slow down for him as the intangible longing that had haunted him dissipated.

Then the hug is over too quickly as Dean sees his mother standing behind the angel. He pats Cas’ back and runs to Mary, hugging her tightly. Sam appears from behind Dean and engulfs him in a tight hug. The angel wraps his arms around Sam, feeling a pang of guilt as he selfishly wishes he’d still be hugging Dean. Once the taller man lets go of him the angel turns to Mary and her sons. 

He can feel the now extremely familiar burning behind his eyes. His family is once again together and safe. 

Or so he thought. When Billie stands before them, a dangerous smirk painted on her horribly smug face, the angel knows it’s over. A pact, bound in blood, is not something that can be broken easily. It directs energy between the beings involved, creating a balance that fills the holes defined in the agreement. 

Mary stands up for her sons, pressing a gun to her temple. She stares into Billie’s eyes, not daring to face her sons as her finger graces the trigger. Sam and Dean beg at her only to be tossed back by the reaper. Mary’s made her choice, and she tells herself it’s for the best. She doesn’t feel like she belongs here, not really. Her sons where babies, her babies, not grown adults. They’re older than she was when she burned for crying out loud! She can’t bring herself to be a true mother to them, not in the way they’re expecting her to be. And even though she knows she has the upper hand since she’s been gone for thirty three years, it’s still her fault that Azazel came into their home in the first place. She owes them this. So she stands still, defiant of Death itself as she squeezes her eyes shut, uttering her last words, this time for good. 

“I love you” 

And then there’s a bright light. 

Castiel couldn’t let her do this. He can’t stand seeing his family broken again. The way they toss their lives around like they mean nothing when he owes them _everything_ is quite infuriating, heartbreaking and unfair. They mean everything to him, and they choose to spit at his face and render him insignificant, unimportant. He’s been fighting so hard to get back on his feet, to redeem himself, and just like that they take it away from him. 

He tells them part of this. But it’s too much, and soon enough he finds himself shaking with rage. Without a word they all get back in the car and Mary drives away. Billie’s body is left on the side of the road, rain splattering over her leather jacket. 

When they arrive at the bunker Castiel isn’t the only one shaking with rage. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, man?!” Dean says, leaning against the war table. 

Castiel stands a few feet away from him, nodding at Kelly as she gives him a puzzled look. He turns to the hunter, narrowing his eyes. 

“I saved your life. What else could i be thinking about, Dean?” he growls out. 

“Well you clearly weren’t thinking about the fucking ‘cosmic consequences’ or whatever of breaking the damn deal” Dean growled back. 

“Guys, please” Sam tries to intervene, but they ignore him. 

“I did the right thing, unlike yourself” 

Dean stood up straight at that, his lip curling up in an offended scowl. “The right thing?! So, what, cursing us with whatever those ‘cosmic consequences’ are is the right thing?!”

“Dean, he saved my life” Mary says, but they ignore her too. 

“I did not curse you. Those consequences will fall on me and me alone”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of confort? ‘Cuz i don’t know if you’ve noticed, pal, but you have a habit of fucking things up for everyone around you” 

“Dean!” Sam called out, placing a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Fine. I won’t be ‘around’ you then” Castiel says, turning to the stairs. 

“Wait, Cas. Where are you going?” Mary asks, following behind him. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s leaving! It’s the only thing that stupid coward knows how to do” Dean calls out. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?!” Sam’s grip on Dean’s shoulder tightens.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him?! First he lets Lucifer in like it’s no big deal and now he goes and kills a reaper? Why the fuck does he keep putting himself in danger like that huh?! And then he gets mad because we do the same. Fucking hypocrite, that’s what he is! A hypocrite and a coward” 

Castiel stops in the middle of the stairway. His hands are curled in tight fists by his sides. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns to Dean. He squints angrily at him for a few seconds before shuffling past Mary on a beeline to his room where he locks himself. Again. 

“Dean you need to calm down” Mary said after a few seconds of silence. 

Dean huffs out angrily. “Me? He’s the one doing stupid shit left and right” 

“Dude, he genuinely thinks he’s doing the right thing” Sam says, standing next to Mary. 

“Whatever. I’m too tired for this shit” He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he makes his way to his room. 

That was a blatant lie. He’s spent a long time locked up in a cell with not much to do except sleep. And the adrenaline from their earlier escape is still pumping through his veins so now he finds himself in his room desperately looking for something to do. He walks to his desk, which is still covered with old papers and books from when he was doing his research on Amara. He sits on the wooden chair and turns on the lamp. There, glaring at him is a book on angelic lore. 

He’s read it at least five times since he discovered the Men of Letters library. He always makes a show of reading whenever he has to do research for a case, insisting on how much he absolutely hates it. What he won’t tell anyone, ever, is that he actually enjoys certain works here and there, like most of Vonnegut’s stuff. He doesn’t know why he lies, something to do with his deep seeded issues with masculinity, but he doesn’t bother to excuse himself. Here, in the privacy of his own room he can enjoy as much literature as he wants without the world finding out. 

He traces his fingers over the hard leather cover, tempted to spend the night reading. He glances behind him, sees the door still closed, and opens the book on a random page. It opens on an illustration of ‘Ezekiel’s Vision’ by Raphael. No, Dean isn’t much into the whole Renaissance art thing (mainly because of his general bitterness against God and religion) but he actually kinda likes how this book tells the story. 

See, this Ezekiel dude was a prophet whose parents ironically named after the angel. He was hit by the whole enlightening shebang but he never really laid hands on a tablet. Instead, he would have visions, like ‘Chuck’ did, but his were more… weird. He’d talk about the same vision over and over again because apparently seeing a funky white man floating around surrounded by animals and little white kids with wings in that time and place was quite impressive. He’d talk about the dude speaking to him, telling him deep philosophical things that the poor guy could barely handle. Which is why, when he finally saw something other than the whole celestial circus he was relieved… for about three seconds. 

Then, he saw a chariot. You’d think, in his time, chariots were pretty mundane crap. But as he digged deeper (thanks to God’s philosophy lessons) he was able to see the driver, plus the four beings acting as a base to it. The driver was described as the “Likeness of Men” though Dean never bothered in understanding what that meant. Instead he was more into what carried the actual chariot. The four beings, each depicted with four faces and four pairs of wings, were believed to be some kind of angels. Though later on in the 1800’s some old nun discovered they were actually the four archangels: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel; each of their faces represented the four cardinal points, and each pair of wings was designed to either cover their bodies or, in this specific case, to make some kind of protective barrier around the chariot. Under them stood the rest of the holy host. Thousands upon thousands of angels backing up the four archangels as they carried the weight of the chariot itself. 

_It must be a pretty damn heavy chariot for it to need so many winged bastards carrying it around. What would happen if one of them got tired and left?_

Moving even deeper Ezekiel found that what actually helped the chariot move was a wall of flames, later translated into a crowd of some special kind of angel. The Seraphim. They were supposed to be the highest rank of heavenly soldier, under the archangels, orchestrating the movements of whatever the chariot was doing. These angels, described literally as ‘burning ones’ are in charge of keeping the whole thing in motion, pushing the angels below them and propping the archangels to keep holding the base and keeping the driver safe. 

Dean knows Cas is a seraph, a warrior. And looking at this reminds him of how the angel has sticked by them, constantly pushing and pushing and keeping _them_ safe. That stubborn, nerdy little guy was one of heaven’s most powerful soldiers and he gave all that up for them. And as corrupt and generally awful as Heaven was, it had been the angel’s home. 

The hunter can somewhat relate to him with the whole ‘having one mission imposed on them since birth’ thing. Cas had to keep the chariot moving, and Dean had to raise and protect Sam. 

He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands against his face. He _had_ been an ass to Cas, but he couldn’t help it. He had been trapped with nothing, nothing but his own head to keep him company and he’d thought about many, many things. Castiel was one of them, and more usual than not those electric blue eyes made an appearance and he lost himself in thoughts of the angel. 

Still, after all these years, the idea that an angel is his best friend still baffles him. _An angel_. Didn’t Mary used to tell him angels were watching over him when he was a kid? People are supposed to believe in higher beings to find comfort in the insignificance of their lives. They are supposed to believe there’s a higher meaning to everything so that they don’t lose themselves in a nihilistic trance. This is supposed to be an illusion, not something that constantly bites him in the ass. 

After his mom died, the idea of God was too much to handle. If He was real, then why would he allow this to happen? How could this great being that supposedly cares for him let his mom burn and his dad become an obsessed bastard? 

From a very young age Dean learned to find comfort in the idea of there being no God. 

And now here he is. He met the bastard, nearly died thanks to him, and life is still a shitfest. 

But Cas… he’s just as damned as he is. The angel was brainwashed and controlled by Heaven for so long only to lose everything he’d ever known for humanity. _For them_. It blows his mind every time he finds this terrifying being drinking coffee in the bunker’s kitchen. He looks so small, so innocent, yet ancient and wise and… 

Dean groans, nearly poking his eye as he slaps a hand to his face. He needs to apologise. 

Ever so slowly he stands up and shuffles to the door. He looks into the long hallways and once he’s sure no one will see him he walks to the room next to his which oh so happens to be the angel’s. Something twists in his chest as he sees that it’s locked. Carefully, he places his ear to the wooden door, holding his breath. There’s a few sounds of fabrics rustling and then a dull thump followed by an eerie silence. Dean is about to knock, his knuckles hovering over the dark wood when a muffled gasp breaks the silence. He presses himself further into the door. There’s more muffled gasping, followed by a choked out sob. 

_Is Cas really crying?_

Dean bites his lip, closing his eyes and listening intently. He can almost picture the angel curled up in the bed with a pillow pressed against his face to muffle his sounds. His heart falls to his feet, a pang of regret knocking the breath out of his lungs. He gulps, reminding himself of why he’s there, and finally knocks on the door. 

There’s a pause, then more fabric rustle behind the door. Dean counts 23 seconds before the lock clicks and the door opens slightly. 

Cas’ face is completely emotionless, so much so that even though Dean knows him better than anyone, not even him can identify a single speck of emotion in those cold eyes. There’s no redness or puffiness to indicate that he had been, in fact, sobbing onto a pillow as he fought the urge to break something in frustration, but Dean could still sense it. 

“Dean?” His voice is just as gravely deep as always, but the electric feel behind it brings Dean back to when they met at that barn all those years ago. 

The hunter clears his throat, shifting nervously. “Heya, Cas. Can i come in?” 

Cas eyes him silently. He can see the regret and embarrassment in Dean’s eyes, the way his soul flares with emotions in his chest. Without a word he steps back, opening the door completely and letting the hunter in. 

The room was mostly empty. One would think no one used it if it weren’t for the stack of books and various trinkets placed delicately on the desk far back. There were some creases in the bed sheets and pillows and Dean mentally kicked himself. 

There was an awkward silence, and Castiel sighed exasperatedly. “What is it, Dean? Are you here to yell at me some more?” 

Cas isn’t usually like this, so childish and generally salty, but Dean had truly crossed the line this time. 

The man has the decency to look down, not daring to get himself comfortable in the angel’s bed. Instead he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as Cas settles in the desk chair. 

“No” Dean says, his voice so quiet the angel is grateful for his grace allowing him to have great hearing. “No, i uh… i’m here to say that i’m sorry” 

Another brief silence. The angel’s eyes examine the hunter’s face as Dean still doesn’t dare to look anywhere near him. 

“Continue”

Dean sighs, closing his eyes tightly before screaming at himself to man up and finally making eye contact with the angel. 

“Look, man. The way it all went down… i was expecting it to be me, you know? And when mom stepped in and i couldn’t do anything to stop it, well… i got angry. I got so fucking angry because we were desperate and it was so unfair. And then you stepped in. You. After everything you’ve been through and you still care for us” 

He clears his throat again, his eyes leaving Cas’ to settle on the desk. “Man, how can you still care for us? We’re nothing… _I am nothing_ and you- you’re- you’re an angel for fucks sake! You are so powerful and amazing, how can you see something in me worthy of you helping us?” 

Castiel looks intently at the human before him, completely taken aback. 

“Dean” the angel waits for Dean to look up at him before continuing. “It’s not about worth, it’s about will. While i consider you more than worthy of so many good things, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to. I left Heaven because i no longer belong there. If you want to talk about worth, please, tell me why _you_ ‘keep me around’?”

Dean frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“Dean, i’ve done so many bad things. As you said before, i do ‘tend to fuck things up around me’. I’ve hurt you so many times yet you still consider me family. How am i worthy of that?” 

“Cas…”

“I’m not mad about what you said, because it’s all true. I am a coward and i am a hypocrite. I know i am. But what really hurt me is that i’m trying so hard to redeem myself to you, to everyone i ever hurt, yet you keep rendering me useless and insignificant by constantly sacrificing yourselves. You play with your life like it means nothing when it means everything to me. I may be acting selfishly, but Dean, you’re all i have. I chose to stay with you because i want to, i really do, but i know i can’t be worthy of it without redeeming myself”

There’s a brief pause. Castiel stands up, leaving a couple feet between himself and Dean as he continues speaking. “Dean Winchester, you are a good man” he searches the man’s green eyes, willing him to understand. “You do deserve to be saved”


	7. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean remembers.

Dean doesn’t know what takes over him, but hearing those words from Cas lift a giant weight off his shoulders and before he knows it he’s desperately clutching the lapels of the angel’s coat in his fists, searching his eyes for _something_.

And really, that’s all this is about. All that time telling himself that there is no God, no celestial, omnipotent higher power to hold on to pushed him to create unhealthy relationships with his father and brother. He became John’s perfect little soldier, taking the man’s words as the highest form of truth since he knew nothing better. He developed a toxic dependency on the man. Even when he was forced to be independent he still had the man’s ideas pulling the strings. _Watch out for Sammy, keep the shotgun by your bed, watch out for Sammy, kill everything that isn’t human, watch out for Sammy, alcohol is your only friend, watch out for Sammy, killing the demon is your only goal in life, watch out for Sammy, watch out for Sammy, watch out for Sammy…_

**If you can’t save him, kill him**

After such a toxic way of living he was desperate to find _something_ else to follow. And he thinks he’s found it, here. God is an asshole, his sister, well… Angels are dicks and now he’s finally let go of the unhealthy codependency with Sam. He understands now that they’re brothers, equals, and that there is no need for him to act like his parent anymore. And Mary may be his mother, but he can’t expect her to give him what she didn’t in his childhood, not now that he’s a grown adult and she’s been gone for so long. She doesn’t have to make them dinner and tuck them in bed every night to be their mom, their family. 

And Cas… 

The angel that somehow squeezed his way into his heart. The angel that sacrificed everything he was, everything he had, just to help two boys who owned nothing but a car and a couple articles of clothing between them. The angel that has lived through the rise and fall of empires, has fought heavenly battles, tossed himself into hell and killed his way to Dean’s soul and rose him to Earth, healed his mangled and decomposed body and brought him back to life. The angel that did the same for Sam, risked everything to stand by the cage and somehow pulled his body out without freeing neither Michael nor Lucifer in the process. The angel that stood up to Raphael on his own. The angel that did everything he could to keep Dean safe in Purgatory. The angel that fought so hard to get the Mark off his arm. The angel that let Lucifer possess him in order to keep the boys out of the battle against Amara. The angel that just killed a reaper to save his mom. 

Castiel, angel of the lord. 

No, it’s not fair to call him that. He’s not just an angel. He’s more than just his grace, more than his strength, his powers, his wings. 

Castiel is kindness, bravery, stubbornness… humanity. In all his almost 40 years of life (or 80 if you want to include his time in Hell), Dean has never come across something as _human_ as Cas. And now he understands that all that power, all that knowledge and experience, it’s nothing compared to what Cas is. All angels have grace, all angels have wings, and they’re all still dicks. But Castiel is different, he is so much more… 

Dean wants to laugh at himself. He’s been such a fucking idiot. All this time focusing on the ‘angel of the Lord’ bit he forgot the part where Castiel is just… Cas. 

Cas who likes coffee and sunsets. Cas who watches weird documentaries on his free time, correcting the narrator whenever they say something inaccurate. Cas who indulges Dean by watching cowboy movies and listens intently to him as he rants about the best rock bands out there. Cas who keeps a wrinkled picture of the three of them in his coat pocket. Cas who is so uniquely Cas, the nerdy little dude that struggles with social queues but still tries and tries and never gives up because he’s too stubborn for his own good. 

Cas who is looking at him with such warmth in his eyes that makes Dean feel like he’s found everything he could ever need and more. 

His breath hitches as he becomes aware of the few inches between them. Goosebumps plague his arms as his stomach does the flippy thing it does whenever Cas steps a little too close. There’s a reason why he used to insist so much on personal space after all…

“Dean?” Cas’ voice is barely a whisper, scared to say the wrong thing and have Dean yell at him again. 

“Cas” Dean says, and his throat is suddenly too dry. He swallows, green never leaving blue. “Cas, you’re not a coward. You’re the bravest man i know” 

“Thank you, Dean” he responds keeping his voice oh so quiet. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you” 

“It’s fine” 

“And i’m sorry for making you feel… like that” Words are too fuzzy for him at the moment. His brain is too busy focusing on those eyes, that perfect nose, those pink lips, the crows feet by his temples… and what is that smell? Ozone? Freshly cut grass? Rain? He doesn’t even notice his eyes roaming the angel’s face, drinking him in as if that would freshen up his uncomfortably dry throat. 

“It’s fine, Dean” Cas’ voice somehow becomes even more quiet. His brain indulging in his unhealthy obsession with the hunter’s freckles. Tiny specks that littered his beautiful face, framed those bright green eyes so perfectly and sat on his nose like individual works of art. 

“Cas…” The word leaves his lips so naturally. 

“Dean…”

“Cas…”

“Dean…” 

They become completely unaware of the world around them. Oblivious to the way their voices crack, or how Dean’s hands are now shaking against Cas’ chest. Right now it’s just them, seeing the other for what feels like the first time. Something hangs in the air, acting like a drug. Blood pumps through their veins, their hearts threatening to jump out of their chests, their legs becoming numb and their breathing brushing the other’s face like a gentle summer breeze. 

“Castiel?” 

“Yes, Dean?” 

And then they’re kissing. It starts out soft, tentative. None of them are aware of who leaned in first, neither do they care. It’s all about the way they are touching, the way they are finally getting to really see and feel the other the way they’ve been craving for for _years_. It’s so damn perfect. If Dean had the active brain cells needed to think he’d be wondering if he somehow got himself under a djinn spell. 

Cas’ hands slowly make their way to Dean’s back. They press the hunter closer to him, grabbing fistfulls of the man’s overshirt. The kiss evolves from sweet contact to desperate need. Dean’s tongue licks softly at Cas’ lips, begging for entrance. Cas eagerly grants it, and just as their tongues make contact, something sparks between them. 

Dean gasps, pulling away as images flash before his eyes. Like watching a movie, the memories of their previous encounters rush before him. Every single touch, every single word, he is forced to watch it all so fast yet so slow no detail remains unnoticed. He sees the both of them, so desperate and needy, it’s almost unbearable. He looks up at the angel, fear and confusion clouding his eyes. 

Castiel stands back, eyes wide. 

“Cas?!” He says, his hands letting go of the tan fabric as he jumps back. He puts as much space between them as possible, almost hitting his head on the bedroom door. 

“Dean…Dean i’m so sorry” Castiel says, his voice pleading for… he doesn’t even know what he needs. 

But before he could figure it out Dean bolts out of the room. 

Castiel stands there, dumbfounded, for a long time. He isn’t sure how long it’s been, but when he finally turns to the clock that sat above his desk, it marks 4:31am. 

**He fucked up.**

His eyes hadn’t left the door since Dean left through it and over time it has become some abstract object that Castiel is 60% sure has somehow become cursed or something, because he swears he can hear it mocking him. 

_You stupid angel couldn’t keep it in your pants, huh? Once again you’ve fallen right into Dean’s arms and once again he’s completely freaked out about it. When will you learn?!_

Suddenly the four walls surrounding him become too much. He can physically feel the space getting hotter and hotter even though his grace automatically regulates his body temperature. A nagging fear haunts him and without thinking he bolts out of the room. He speed-walks through the bunker’s hallways as quietly as he can, the faint echoes of his dress shoes hitting the floor beneath him not loud enough to be heard from the other occupant’s rooms. 

The hallways begin closing in on him as his breathing speeds up. His wings twitch behind him as the desperate need to _get out_ overwhelms him. 

And then he’s standing in the library. The constricted feeling from before dies down a little, leaving him to just stand there and calm his breathing. He feels something wet in his hands and realized that they’d been clenched in such tight fists that his nails had digged into the soft flesh of his palms hard enough to draw blood. He closes his eyes and focuses on his grace, letting it heal the wounds as well as calm him down, a technique he’d learned during his time as a heavenly soldier to regain focus in the battlefield. 

“Cas! Hey, are you ok?!” Finally he can hear the desperate voices calling his name. 

His eyes open to reveal Sam and Mary standing next to him. Sam’s hand is clutching his shoulder tightly as he leans down to force himself into his line of sight. Cas takes a few deep breaths before nodding at the hunters. He stands up straight and calmly makes his way towards the war room. 

“Cas? Where are you going?” Sam’s voice calls out behind him.

“Out” he says. He reaches the staircase and looks down at Sam and Mary. He gives them the best reassuring nod he can muster and adds, for good measure, “I just need some fresh air” 

And with that he opens the heavy metal door, disappearing behind it. 

The cold early morning air hits him, easing the pressure in his chest immediately. He takes a few deep breaths and attempts to step further outside but his knees buckle under him a couple steps in. 

He kneels there for a long time, watching the sunrise and praying for… well, _something_. 

~~~

Dean has been sitting in his bed for while now. To be honest, he has no memory of getting here nor does he particularly care much. 

_He’d kissed Cas._

Or Cas kissed him, he doesn’t really remember much of that either. Not that it matters since he still kissed back, even pushed him to use tongue for God’s sake!.

He physically cringes at that thought. Now is not the time to bring the whole God mess up again. Not when there’s much more pressing matters to think about. No, he’s not stalling or anything. He’s man enough to confront _that_. Hell, he’s been through worse. Like that time he had a daughter. That Sam later killed… because she was going to kill him… because of some weird amazonian ritual bullshit… Yeah, now is **not** the time. At all. 

So. Cas. 

Not only did they kiss, but apparently they’ve done the whole… ‘roll in the sack’ thing. Twice. And both times he asked Cas to delete the memory or something. Clearly he didn’t do a good job getting rid of it, too. Even when he offered to do it the first time because he was so appalled by what they did and he didn’t want Dean to have to live with such a terrible memory...

 _Fuck_.

He can feel it in his chest. His heart, that squishy feely thing that won’t leave him alone. That _thing_ that does the _thing_ when Cas does his _thing_. It’s not fair. He never asked for it, much less imagined it would ever happen. 

Not that he’d ever imagined he’d have an angel that’s not _just_ an angel as a best friend or whatever. 

But this thing… it fucking hurts. He’s not sure what Cas wants, much less what _he_ wants. But just as it takes a lot for him to actually think about his own feelings, it takes even more for him to actually talk about these feelings out loud, much less to someone else. 

And it’s not just someone else, is it? This is Cas! The one person in the world that knows and understands him better than he knows and understands himself. Not even Sam knows half of the stuff Cas does. And Cas _still_ chooses to be with him. He’s told him before, he _wants_ to be with him. With them. 

_Jeez._

Yes, ok, fine. He has always felt different for the angel. It’s not a brother thing like with Sam, and it’s also not a friend thing like with, well, Benny or Charlie or whoever. And it also feels different from Cassie or Lisa or… or. It’s just different. Good different or bad different, who knows? It just is. 

He wants it. He wants it so bad he begged Cas to stay, to reassure him that he wants to be with him, that he sees something worthy in Dean. He wants it more than anything, and it hurts. 

So why did he run away from him like that? 

Yeah, getting his memories back was a kick to the teeth. And completely unexpected. But he should’ve said _something_ before running off like that. 

And he’d thrown crap at Cas earlier about being a coward. How ironic. 

He needs to apologize. Again. Fuck. 

This better not become a habit of his or something. 

He quietly opens his bedroom door, making sure no one else is around before walking to the next room. The door is open. He calls out for Cas but there’s no response. Once he makes sure he’s not somehow hiding under the bed or something he makes his way to the library. He knows it’s a longshot, but the nerdy little dude loves sitting in the library chairs with an old, leather bound book in his hands. 

“Cas?!” he calls out as he steps inside. 

“Dean!” It’s Sam’s voice that answers him, much to his complete disappointment. 

“Hey, have you seen Cas?” 

Sam frowns at him. “Yeah, he just bolted out like an hour ago. Said he needed space or something. I was about to check on him but- Dean?” 

As soon as he heard what he wanted to hear Dean marched towards the staircase, ignoring his brother’s further comments. 

“You better talk to him, Dean!” Mary calls out behind him as he opens the heavy front door. He doesn’t even bother processing his mother’s words as he steps outside, immediately catching sight of the bundle of tan in the middle of the deserted road.

“Cas?”


	8. I Deserve This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, it all depends on remembering that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed finally posting this story after months of it just sitting in my drive unfinished. Feels like a giant weight was lifted off my shoulders fbdsjesk
> 
> This last chapter is a little short but i liked how it turned out. Hope you guys like it too! :)

Cas’ rushing thoughts come to a halt as the rough voice pierces through the otherwise undisturbed air around him. 

“Cas!” 

And suddenly there’s warm arms around him. And not just any arms. Dean’s. 

 

He remains frozen in place. His eyes search the scene eagerly, reassuring him that he’s indeed kneeling a few feet outside the bunker. The only sounds beside his and Dean’s breathing are the birds singing somewhere in the distance. A chill breeze reminds him that it’s still early morning, though judging by the now orange-y red color of the sky and the cold ground seeping through his slacks he’s been there, unmoving, for quite a while. Dean’s body is warm, and the way it makes his heart speed up and his legs feel restless prompts him to look up and clear his throat. 

“Hello, Dean” 

The gentle breeze engulfs them then, tussling their hair and clothes. Neither of them moves, though, afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere built around them. It almost feels like a dream, too breathtakingly peaceful to be their actual real lives. 

There’s a few moments of silence, the birds still eagerly composing symphonies in the background. 

“Cas, i’m sorry” 

Another beat of silence. 

“You have to stop apologizing” Cas’ voice is soft, completely opposite to his usual deep rumble. 

Dean sighs. “No, i don’t” 

Another gentle breeze swoops around them, bringing with it the fresh scent of trees. The sky above them glows, a pinkish tone added to the orange and red from a few minutes ago. The darkness of the previous night washed away for a new beginning. One that promises a million possibilities that can only be fought with personal certainties. 

Castiel used to believe in a plan, blind faith to an unfold of events that couldn’t and shouldn’t be messed with. Now, he makes it up as he goes. Every day he looks up at the sky and sets a list of what has to be done for himself and others. Not exactly the healthiest mindset he could have, but it’s what’s kept him going for so long. 

_What if he can change that ‘has to be done’ for a ‘what makes me and others happy’?_

“I should be the one apologizing” Cas says, his eyes lost somewhere in the horizon. 

Dean frowns from behind him, his arms still snug around Cas’ shoulders, his chest barely brushing against the other man’s back. 

“I have no idea how the memories returned to you. It’s never happened before” 

“Maybe” Dean clears his throat as his voice breaks in that single word before trying again. “Maybe this time you didn’t want it to work” 

The birds’ song becomes softer, quieter and the heat of the early morning sun starts to seep through them. 

“Maybe” Cas echoes, his body slowly, oh so slowly sagging against Dean’s until his back is laying completely flat against the man’s chest. Dean’s chin rests on his shoulder, his nose barely tickling his ear as they just lay there, staring at the horizon where the sun greets them. 

“What do you want, Cas?” The question sounds so simple coming from Dean, yet it weighs more than either of them can carry. 

Cas sighs deeply, closing his eyes. 

_What does he want?_

Deep down, he knows the answer. He’s known for a few years now, ever since those demons cornered them in that abandoned hospital. He’s known and he’s thought about it for so long. 

It’s quite simple. All he wants is right here. _Here_. But just because he wants it and he can see it, feel it, doesn’t mean he can have it. 

He’s made so many mistakes, hurt so many people over and over again he’s sure it’ll happen again because that’s just who he is. No matter how good his intentions are, he always ends up hurting someone or something and dragging the boys down with him. He’s done it again, not 12 hours prior when he killed Billie. But he’d been desperate. He couldn’t bring himself to watch either of them sacrifice themselves. Not Mary, not Sam, **not Dean**. 

He knows he’s being selfish, but he just loves them so much. They really are everything he has. Everything that truly makes sense to him. And without hesitation he sacrificed himself for them. 

_What if being a little selfish is the key to everything?_ Chuck seemed to have no problem indulging in that particular ‘sin’. 

And, fuck, he hates it. He hates it so much he fantasises about yelling at his father until his voice can’t give more. He wants to ask him, why does everything have to be a sacrifice? Why can’t they just have something, anything, without having to give something in return? Why does he have to give more when all he’s ever done is give give give? 

It’s unfair. It’s always been unfair. Since the moment he was created, the universe was designed to take take take from him and everyone he cares about without giving much in return. And maybe that’s just the way things are, maybe his father really is that much of an asshole. So how is he supposed to ever be happy?

_What do you want, Cas?_

“This” His hands slowly reach up from where they hung by his sides, brushing against Dean’s where they sat on his chest. They’re both shaking, desperate for… for this. “To be happy”

“Me too” Dean agrees, holding his breath as he clasps Cas’ hands in his. 

The sky above them is now a pinkish blue. The sun greets them over the horizon, too bright to look at and the birds aren’t singing as much. The gentle breeze picks up in sporadic gusts that get stronger and stronger the more they kneel there. 

“Can we have it?” Castiel asks. “Can we really have it?” 

Dean sighs. “I think we deserve it” 

Cas nods, looking at the sun one last time. “We should go back inside” 

Dean hums softly, giving Cas one last squeeze before letting go of his hands. He stands up, pulling Cas with him. Cas’ back is still pressed to Dean’s chest, and it takes several deep breaths for him to find the courage to turn. 

His breath hitches as the sight before him. The intense sunlight hits Dean in al the right places. His apple candy eyes so, so bright. Green with tiny whiskey yellow specks so perfectly alive he swears he can see the man’s soul dancing in them. His freckles shining like fairy lights across the man’s face framing his delicate yet strong features artistically. His dirty blonde hair tousled and messy even though he’s carrying weeks of being locked up with no shower available plus a long walk in the woods on it. Dean, so beautiful and breathtaking. It physically hurts the angel, just looking at him. His grace twists and screams within him, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. 

“Dean” his name escapes his lips like a prayer. 

“Cas” the man echoes, his voice just as desperate as his. 

“I want this so bad” Castiel can feel the burn behind his eyes as he says this but he doesn’t even try to stop it. 

Dean smiles widely, searching the angel’s face. “Not more than i do” 

The space between them is getting smaller and smaller and this time they’re both entirely conscious of it. 

“I beg to differ” Cas whispers, his lips a breath away from Dean’s. 

“Then beg” And with that their lips collide. 

This kiss is nothing like the others, and Castiel is starting to wonder if it’ll feel different each time. If so, he really doesn’t mind. 

This particular kiss carries an overdose of emotions and desperation so strong it nearly knocks them off their feet. They grip wherever they can reach: their shoulders, backs, hips, face, neck, everywhere as if making sure that the deal includes the whole package. Their bodies blaze up and Dean is reminded of the chariot. 

The hunter, who had been convinced he’d never find the kind of love poets spend their whole lives putting into words yet never coming close, suddenly feels like the whole universe is at his hands. This man, this creature he’s despairingly holding onto, is so much more than he seems it’s insane to think one individual could carry so much. He’s an angel, a celestial being with graze that burns and moves for all eternity made of flames that guide the chariot to it’s undefined destination. This being who is everything he wasn’t supposed to be and more. This man who feels, who understands, who gives and protects and does so many things he was told should never be even considered. 

Suddenly it’s not so crazy to think about the two men who against all odds became more than weapons to be used by their respective armies, finding strength in the other to become what they are today. 

They may not be perfect, nothing ever is, but they’re learning to accept that _that’s ok_. They can still have it all. 

“I love you” 

The words come out of Castiel’s mouth as soon as Dean’s lips leave his. He’s been holding back for so long, there’s no need to hold back any longer. 

Dean takes Cas’ head between his hands, looks into his electric blue eyes and says the words that he keeps oh so close to his heart. The words that mean _everything_ and beyond. 

“I love you too” 

The words freeze them in place. The birds around them stop singing and the smell of pine and dirt is gone. In their place, it’s just Dean and Cas. The combined light of soul and grace that creates its own universe where nothing, not even God, can disturb them. A universe where they have _something_ they can never forget. 

“Umm… guys?” Sam’s voice breaks the spell. They both turn to him, Dean’s hands still on Cas’ face. 

“What?” Dean asks, a hint of irritation in his voice. 

“I uh, sorry to interrupt but mom and i are kinda starving in here” Sam says, ghosting a nervous hand over his long hair as he tries and ultimately fails to hide a smirk. 

Dean sighs. “I’ll make something in a minute” 

“Actually” Sam’s voice goes slightly higher as the smirk in his face grows. “Mom says there’s a nice mexican place a few minutes from here” 

Dean’s eyes shoot daggers at his brother, but before he could say anything undoubtedly threatening, Cas spoke up. 

“Go get in the car, Sam. Dean and i will be up in a minute” 

“Ok. Just please don’t start making out or something. I might starve to death waiting on you two lovebirds” And with that the younger Winchester rushed back inside. 

“That little shit. Now we gotta make out and make him wait for being such an ass” Dean says, a smug smile lightning up his face. 

Cas rolls his eyes, softly pushing on the man’s shoulders. “It wouldn’t be polite to leave your mother waiting”

Dean frowns, still looking up at Cas. “Ugh, fine. But you owe me one”

“We have plenty of time for that” The thought brings a wide smile to Cas’ face, mimicking Dean’s. 

“Yeah” Not being able to hold back, the hunter places a soft peck to the man’s lips before taking his hand in his, walking back inside the bunker. Inside their home. 

 

Castiel is very old. 

He’s lived through peace and war, creation and destruction, light and dark, but never did he ever imagine he’d ever get to experience happiness and love. He never thought he’d ever aspire to more than following orders and completing missions as a good soldier would. 

Now, he understands that he can have it because he, and Dean, they both deserve this. 

Now, it all depends on remembering that.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! @call-it-a-miracle


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